Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1887-12-11
A PAIR OF EARS.

''Where and how do you get the subjects
for your dissections?" This was the ques-
ton asked a Buffalo medical student as ne
sat in his room on Chippewa street late one
night last week consuming numberless
cigarettes.
"Hushw said the student, pointing 70
the wall before him. Turning, his inter-
rogator followed through the blue smoke
the direction of the students finger. On
the wall, standing ont from the huge, gro
tesque shadow of the student, he saw o
pair of shriYeled, tan-colored human ears.
They were so fixed as to seem attached to
the Autographed head of a pretty actress
nearly life size, fastened to the wall be-
tween them. To make the effect more
striking gilt pendants dangled from the
withered lobes of the leathery relics OF
mortality.
1.-THE very walls have ears" whispered
the student, land those ears" he contln'
ned. "hsye had a remarkable history"
''Dear men!'
eyes, they once grew on the head OF s
handsome young viohuist, and the nrst
sounds that greeted them were the gao-
blings and gossipings OF an Alsatlan town
The young man whose ears you see yonder
came to America some ten years ago, be-
lieving that in this country he would hnd
a larger field for the qualification OF his
ambition than his fatherland afforded. he
left all his kindred behind him.
KNOWING that many OF bis compatrlots
were living in Buffalo he made his way to
this city aud hid himself away in a little
room on Genesee street, and stroye to make
q living with his violin, but | fancy his
realizations of American opulence had not
kept pace with his dreams, for when hrst
made his acquaintance in 1884 he was the
picture of poverty. In the fall of that year
several of the young people OF my neigh
borhood formed q private dancing class,
and hearing by chance Of the young violin
ist, we engaged him 20 furnish the music
for our lessons.
''As the winter wore away we became
quite attached to bin, and be to US, l be-
l;eve, and many a night when the lesson
was over be would tell US tales OF the
SchwarzWald and legends OF the Broken.
Sometimes | would walk part of the
way home with him where our roads were
the same, and now and then he would
sigh, All, then the getting rich is not so
easy then in America, and when will 1t be
I wonder that | can write to Thekla thatlt
ia all RIGHT and to come to America And
sometimes in the dancing class after we
had spun round in a waltz, he would cry:
'Ah, if Thekla were here; it is the dancing
you world see. The best dancer she Is
in all GrCenheim.' At times he would
seem very Respondent, and II asked the
trouble he would slap his pocket and soy,
Dear, dear, it is only three dollars made
this week. II is too bad. q tive-ccnt let
ter is ALL can send my Thekla this week
And so, little by little, we came to
know that our Max, ~ We called him, had
a sweetheart in Germany, who was wait
ing till he could make moaey enough for
them both, and every week, "a he II day
whispered me in confidence, he sent a let
ter, and used very light paper, and wrote
very fine. to send all he could for the
single postage, and when he could save
ANYTHING more-an extra five cents-he
doubled the weight Of the letter, and wrote
her twice as much.
"But it seemed as though violinists
were plenty az flies, and he never could
get a permanent situation in an orchestra.
The meager pittauCe that he earned by
teaching one or two pupils, or furnishing
dance music, barely kept soul and body
together.
II went to see him at his room one Sat
urdsy night-sometime in the spring OF
1885 it was. He was then living at the
top of q little frame house on Boston alley,
the fourth house above Topper street on
the lett-hand side of the way.
"He sat mending his hose, and as he
looked up he appeared unusually woe
begone and respondent. 'Ah,' it is you,
is it?' said he, continuing his mendlng.
1t is 50 sorrowful here, but you will SIT
down; and do you think something has
happened, for l do not get a letter from
Thekla, now it is three weeks
81 tried to comfort him with the assur-
ance that mails were often delayed, and
that he would doubtless get a letter Of
double weight in a day OF two, and 80 he
cheered up "a bit, and l left him quite gay.
A day or two later l met him on the ttreet
and asked him if he had received a letter
yet.
"'Ah, yes, a little one,' he said, but
Thekla has been busy, and her cousin from
Bonn has come TO see them, and so not
much this time
Not long after l heard this heard that
he had secured q position in the Academy
of Music orchestra, and within a week he
came himself to confirm the intelligence.
Hei fairly danced about the room, his big
eyes sparkled, and he ran his fingers
through his bushy yellow hair and sung
and laughed.
1t is in four weeks, a month, that |
will see my Thelka,' he cried. "A long,
long letter l have sent, and she will come,
and you shall know how lovely is my
Thelka.' When he could not find express
sion for his joy in Englieh he broke out in
German, and after he closed my door be-
hind him heard him singing all the way
down stairs 'Beim Liebchen zu Haus.'
"A fortnight or so passed, and thinking
| would like to see my German friend
again, l felt my way one evening to his
room There was no light Oh the staircase
and I stumbled up, putting my hands into
holes in the walls as / CROPPED my way. On
reacbiog the upper landing / knocked at
his door, but hearing no response l opened
it and walked in. There was no light
whatever, save what a street lamp threw
in at the window.
"'Max. are you here?' l cried. heard
the c~reaking of the bed in the corner and
q long sigh, and then, What is it you will
want?'
"Wby, have you no light?' l exclaimed,
and striking a match, held it mp above my
head, so that indistinctly illuminated the
room, and l saw Max's face, very white,
staring at me from the pillow, and at the
same time observing a candle Oh the table,
! lit it.